purple snowflakes
"punch a higher floor!"
As I sit at my desk writing to you, I’m looking out at the giant lilac bush outside my office window. She’s covered in the heavy, wet, spring snow that is still slowly falling from a nondescript, gray sky. I’ve already gone outside twice in my pajamas and crocs to relieve the weight off her new, fragrant blooms by gently using my broom to bounce her branches. I’m humming Prince’s song Sometimes it Snows in April. I’m aware that today, the Monday this newsletter comes out, is the nine-year anniversary of Prince’s death. I’m remembering how I cried for weeks after he died, whenever I thought about him.
Prince was a key part of my childhood. Purple Rain was the first R-rated movie I watched (unbeknownst to my parents). The accompanying album was the soundtrack to many a day lounging alone on our back porch hammock, and that album was the inspiration for at least six different dance routines my cousin and I choreographed to perform for our family on the driveway or in the room over our garage. We’d charge them a quarter to watch, then use the money to buy Garbage Pail Kids at Margie & Ray’s tackle shop around the corner from our houses. I now have digitized recordings of my elementary school best friends and me singing Raspberry Beret into my tape recorder in the fifth grade. I regret that I never got to see Prince perform live — such a brilliant, otherworldly artist who was challenging gender norms far before the world was ready for it. (Sadly, it seems like much of the world still isn’t ready for it.)
When Prince died in April 2016, I was heavily into watercoloring every single day. The day before his passing, I painted this image to depict the forthcoming pink full moon:
Then — on the day before Prince died — I posted this image of Prince watercoloring on Instagram:
The following afternoon, I was painting again when learned about Prince dying in his Paisley Park elevator (“Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down? Oh no, let’s go!”). I was dabbling in an art form that I’ve continued ever since — responsive drawing. It’s when I make art out of small, abstract watercolor paintings I’ve already made OR (and this is my favorite) the paper I used to blot my brush. Images emerge within these blobs of color, inspiring me to embellish and elaborate upon them with ink. I gazed into a small watercolor painting from the day before (when I had been painting potential skies for the full moon above) and the image of Prince surfaced from the paint, clear as day.
So, that’s what I’m thinking about here today, as I watch the snow fall onto my purple lilacs. Sorry if the title of today’s post had you singing that awful holiday tune. So, in case that’s happening, I’ll leave you with something else:
Dearly beloved
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called "life"
Electric word, life
It means forever, and that's a mighty long time
But I'm here to tell you there's something else:
The afterworld
A world of never ending happiness
You can always see the sun, day or night
So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills
You know the one, Dr. Everything'll-Be-All-Right
Instead of asking him how much of your time is left
Ask him how much of your mind, babe
'Cause in this life
Things are much harder than in the afterworld
In this life
You're on your own
And if the elevator tries to bring you down
Go crazy (Punch a higher floor!)
-Let’s Go Crazy lyrics, Prince
tooootally immersed in: being my own general contractor in the realm of home renovations and the physical, financial, mental, emotional, and spiritual project that is moving.
learning about: healing my chronic condition through Chinese medicine and nutrition
watching: Dying for Sex on Hulu. We’re only partway in, but as much as it’s about cancer and mortality, it’s about pleasure and vitality and friendship and life and love.
tomorrow! Speaking of pleasure and vitality, this is for you, my fellow midlife sapphics: Tomorrow evening, I’m teaming up with queer sex educator and intimacy coach, Whitni Mille, for an experiential virtual event. It’s called Queering Pleasure: Reclaiming Desire in Midlife. It’s only $10, and you’ll get the recording if you can’t be there live. Come join us!
⭐️ Whether you’re an unpaid or paid subscriber to prism, having a spot in your inbox is an honor I don’t take for granted. It gives my art and writing a place to breathe. Thank you.